


Lucky

by writeitininkorinblood



Category: Pride (2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Welfare Hall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 15:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: Jonathan will take any opportunity to talk about Gethin, especially when drunk.





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> I doubt anyone is actually going to read this, but I wanted to write it and I liked it so here it is.  
> I'm fully aware that Pride is based on real people, but this fic is written about the film characters, who do differ from reality. No claims or assumptions made about, or offence intended to, the real life LGSM members.

When the Welfare Hall had settled down after Jonathan’s impromptu dance performance, he and Steph found themselves sat at a table with Sian while he downed half a pint and let his breathing return to normal.

“So, do you have someone, love? A sweetheart?” Sian asked him as she took a sip from her own drink.

Jonathan knew she was expecting a no. The media portrayed gay men as promiscuous and that was almost definitely what all of Sian’s views had been based on before they’d rocked up in the theatre van. And maybe when he was younger that would have been accurate, but then he’d met Gethin and he’d realised he’d never love anyone in the world more, so what was the point in keeping looking. Thanks to the tabloids, Sian had probably never seen or heard of a committed, monogamous gay couple, even now - since Ray and Reggie were determined to act as straight as possible. But he didn’t believe in hiding and he was nothing anywhere near ashamed of Gethin.

“I do, actually, yes,” he said, unable to stop a smile.

Raising his hand from his knee, he showed her the wedding ring. People rarely noticed it since they were rarely expecting to see one. There hadn’t been a wedding, of course, because that wasn’t allowed, and technically it wasn’t even a wedding ring at all. Gethin had given it to him one sleepy morning in bed, mumbling something about stumbling across it and being reminded of him, and Jonathan had taken the band out of its velvet box and slipped it onto his ring finger, where it had stayed ever since, without a pause. The look of surprise and emotion in Gethin’s eyes was something he’d never forget.

Sian, to her credit, didn’t look as surprised as he’d expected - instead she looked happy for him. Maybe he’d underestimated the miners in just how tolerant they might be.  
“Gethin,” Steph chimed in helpfully, when Jonathan didn’t add anything else.  
“Welsh name, isn’t it?” Sian asked, seemingly more surprised by that than Gethin’s existence. When Jonathan nodded, taking another gulp of his beer, she pressed the matter. “He didn’t feel like visiting?”

Jonathan wasn’t sure how much to say about Gethin’s relationship with Wales, and why he felt the need to stay away. It was likely something Sian and the others wouldn’t be able to fully understand, and besides, it wasn’t his story to tell. He and Gethin had unspoken but firm understandings about the secrets they kept and this was Gethin’s. So Jonathan just shrugged and replaced the truth with something enough close to the truth that it wasn’t completely a lie.  
“He runs the shop, the one you sent the letter to – couldn’t leave it,” he explained with a sigh.

Sian nodded sympathetically.    
“What’s he like, then, this Gethin?” she asked with an encouraging smile. It was easy to see that talking to LGSM openly about partners and relationships, even if most of them didn’t have one, was a quick way to help them relax, since it was what they usually got the most abuse for.  
“Oh don’t get him started,” Steph teased.

Jonathan pulled a face at her, before pulling out his wallet, worn and covered in faded queer pride stickers, and slipping out a photo Joe had handed him a couple of weeks ago. Neither him nor Gethin had known it was being taken and if they had, it probably wouldn’t exist. It had been the first cold day of the year and Gethin was completely unseasonably dressed to be stood outside collecting, in just a short-sleeved t-shirt. Jonathan had been wearing a jumper he couldn’t exactly easily share, but he’d pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around his boyfriend’s neck with a soft smile on his lips.

Joe had captured the moment just before he’d pulled Gethin in for a kiss by the fringe of the scarf and from the look on Gethin’s eyes in the photo, he knew it was coming. Jonathan was pretty sure no one but Joe even knew he had the photo, let alone that he carried it around in his wallet, but he hadn’t been about to trek to Wales without some part of Gethin with him, no matter how small. And he wasn’t hiding it, so he flipped it round after giving it a smile similar to the one Joe had immortalised and handed it over, blushing just a little when Sian cooed over it.  
“He’s marvellous,” he said fondly. “Worries too much, insufferably stubborn, but marvellous. Sweet and charming and driven and-”  
“Here we go,” Steph laughed, rolling her eyes and cutting him off. Extravagance and affection meant monologues about Gethin’s brilliance were frequent when Jonathan got drunk.

Saying sorry wasn’t something Jonathan did often, but he did offer an apologetic shrug to Sian. She probably hadn’t wanted an entire speech from him.  
“I don’t get to wax lyrical about him as much as I’d like. Got to take every chance I get,” he admitted.

Sian handed the photo back, careful not to get fingerprints on it despite the fact there was a fold in the middle already. It meant a lot to Jonathan that she was so mindful of something that mattered so much to him. He’d had things thrown at him for holding Gethin’s hand in the street before, been verbally abused for kissing his cheek in public, and that was secretly the welcome he’d half expected in Dulais. Taking the photo gratefully, he tucked it safely back into his wallet. It had only been a day, but he missed Gethin already.  
“He sounds wonderful. Maybe we’ll be able to meet him one day,” Sian suggested.

The idea of Gethin returning to Wales didn’t sound awfully likely, but Jonathan couldn’t admit that without explaining why, so he settled on another not-quite-lie.

“Maybe,” he said.

“You’re a lucky man,” she added, and he couldn’t help but laugh.  
“The luckiest,” he agreed. For everything he had to feel fortunate about in his life, meeting Gethin topped the list.  
“He’s a lucky man, too,” Sian pointed out, patting Jonathan’s hand.

Blushing, he ducked away from the praise. The extent to which Gethin deserved better was hotly debated in their flat and it wasn’t a conversation he was going to strike up with someone who was essentially a stranger, but he appreciated the compliment.  Steph seemed to sense the shift in his mood and reinstated herself in the conversation.

“Come on, Sian, the dancefloor calls,” she said, climbing to her feet and grabbing the Welsh woman’s hand.

Once he was left alone, Jonathan took the photo back out of his wallet. There was something content about it, like the slurs they’d had shouted at them minutes before hadn’t been heard or the people who’d spat at their feet didn’t exist. Joe was good at capturing moments that seemed too good to be true but were actually as perfect as he made them seem, just surrounded by the moments of hate and belittling that didn’t exist in the images. So all that was left was that moment, that kiss, that look in Gethin’s eyes, and it was something no one could take away from him.


End file.
